HxH: Ryomen... Satoru?

Why?

If… he intended to kill her from the start, why bring her into existence at all?

"..." Her eyes, burned into two hollow black pits, turned toward the boy. Her mouth opened, as if trying to say something—

And then she saw him smile faintly, just before her head fell, rolling across the ground, never to speak again.

"Do your best. Don't disappoint me."

"You were supposed to be the climax of my appearance."

In the flickering reel of her dying moments, Hao recalled the boy writing her story as he spoke in riddles she could never understand.

Even in death, she still didn't.

A demon who relied on human skin for existence would, naturally, vanish once that skin was burned away.

Sora, nearby, let out a loud sneeze, kicking up a small whirlwind.

With that gust of wind, even the ashes of the Painted-Skin Demon were scattered—completely gone.

Abe no Masahiro, who had just barely woken and dragged himself off the ground, looked on in disbelief. He would've preferred it if this were all a dream.

What? That's it?

That boy's a jujutsu sorcerer, right? So… onmyōji lost again?

"The scene felt a bit… underwhelming," Cyr sighed.

No one said anything. The silence made the whole affair seem oddly mundane.

As expected, it was his own fault for making it feel too bland.

He should've staged a dramatic fight with Hao, destroyed half of Kyoto in the process, and then taken her out.

That would've looked way cooler—and also made everyone's power seem more impressive.

It was just… kind of hard to not kill Hao in one shot.

Even though she'd been rated as Special Grade, her power had just barely reached that level.

As for Cyr, the reason he was classified as Special Grade… was because that's the highest ranking there was.

It was the same with Gojō Satoru and Ryomen Sukuna—their Special Grade wasn't even comparable to the others of the same rank.

"A new talent in the Gojō family, I see," a man in purple robes stepped forward and said.

He had wide earlobes, but the most eye-catching thing was… the stitched seam running across his forehead.

Cyr slowly narrowed his eyes.

The Six Eyes could see the flow of energy—but they couldn't see through objects.

So he had no way of knowing whether this man, with the seam across his head, had a brain inside… or a brain with a mouth.

No wonder the guy dared to appear in front of Gojō Haru, the Six Eyes bearer.

"You again," Zen'in Akira said, clearly familiar with the man.

"Of course I came to see our clan head, Lord Akira," the man replied, sarcasm thick in his voice. "The Zen'in clan head is always running off to the Gojō house—what kind of example is that?"

Judging by the tone, was this guy… from the Zen'in clan?

If Cyr remembered right, hadn't this person also shown up as a member of the Kamō clan in the manga?

Clearly, interesting cursed techniques gave you privileges—like body-hopping, apparently.

He probably used bodies from all three of the Big Three Sorcerer Families by now.

"Whatever, got it. Let's go," Zen'in Akira muttered, clicking his tongue.

At that moment, the stunned onmyōji finally snapped out of their daze and came rushing over—clearly curious about who the new powerhouse among the jujutsu sorcerers was.

"Lord Haru, and this young man…?" they asked, eyes turning to the white-haired youth beside Gojō Haru.

He had the same snow-white hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes as Haru—but his eyes weren't blue.

Thank goodness. Only one bearer of the Six Eyes could exist per generation. If the Gojō family monopolized two, it would be game over.

Even just one Six Eyes had already made the Gojōs practically untouchable.

He looked like an adult. Was he Gojō Haru's son?

In the Heian period, boys were considered adults at twelve, and underwent the genpuku ceremony—at that age, they could marry, father children, and work.

But Cyr was 185cm tall. No matter how you looked at him, he clearly wasn't twelve. To the people of this era, he was long past the age of adulthood.

"A junior from my household," Gojō Haru said vaguely.

He didn't say when that junior was from, after all. Why couldn't someone from a thousand years in the future count?

Although… there was also the possibility that this boy might have no relation to the Gojō clan even a thousand years from now.

But by then, he himself would've long returned to dust—why care about what happened after death?

More than those trivial concerns, what truly interested him was the boy who called himself Gojō Cyr.

How fascinating—a boy bearing the Six Eyes, crossing a millennium to meet him, the Six Eyes of a thousand years ago.

Gojō Haru smiled more sincerely at the thought.

"…The Gojō family truly is… full of talent…" The onmyōji who had come to ask questions now wore an expression that was part envy, part resentment.

How had the Gojōs produced yet another incredibly powerful individual? Why didn't their own families have someone like that?

Even the Six Eyes were born into the Gojō family. What, were all the blessings reserved for them?

"Perhaps the gods favor us more," Gojō Haru said with a half-smile.

He knew perfectly well what these people were thinking—and had no qualms about rubbing salt in their wounds.

All the onmyōji present looked sour at that.

"…And may we ask this gentleman's name?" someone else asked, unwilling to give up.

"Cyr-kun. Gojō Cyr," Gojō Haru replied with a smile.

"…That name hasn't been heard around Kyoto before. And his clothing…" Their eyes dropped to the boy's outfit.

Compared to the wide-sleeved kariginu and haori robes the others were wearing, the boy's clothes were slim-fitting and tailored, emphasizing his tall, slender figure.

Clearly, they weren't Kyoto garments.

"Cyr-kun, he…" Gojō Haru hesitated.

The Gojō family had prepared clothes from this era for the boy, but… he didn't care for them.

He found them too bulky—said they made people look like round balls, as if they'd instantly gained a hundred pounds.

So, all this time, he'd simply worn his own clothes.

"I'm from Tang. These are clothes from over there," the white-haired boy said casually.

In the Heian period, nobles admired Tang Dynasty culture.

So the moment Cyr mentioned he was from Tang, no one questioned his clothes again.

Instead, curiosity turned to the Tang itself—

And how exactly a "junior" of the Gojō family had come from there.

Things from the Tang really were better than anything they had here.

"Coming with us?" Zen'in Akira stood beside an ox-drawn carriage and asked Gojō Haru.

Cyr glanced at the vehicle and fell into thought.

Ox carts… In ancient time, nobility wouldn't be caught dead in one. Too lacking in prestige.

Only common folk from the countryside would ride those.

But in Heian-kyō, riding an ox cart was a symbol of noble status.

He didn't get it—but he'd respect it.

Didn't mean he needed to ride one, though.

"We'll head back on our own," Cyr said. He'd rather ride Blue—or even just sit on Sora.

Wasn't riding a white tiger way cooler than sitting in an ox cart?

Thankfully, Kyoto had no shortage of jujutsu sorcerers and onmyōji, and people were used to seeing yōkai. They were quick to accept the massive white tiger as Cyr's shikigami, and didn't react too strongly.

°°°

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